


Shaken, Not Stirred

by Marguerite Muguet (margueritem)



Category: GoldenEye (1995)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margueritem/pseuds/Marguerite%20Muguet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This short story was posted to my livejournal on December 11th, 2002.</p><p>Not betaed.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shaken, Not Stirred

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was posted to my livejournal on December 11th, 2002.
> 
> Not betaed.

James entered his suite, a glass of martini in one hand. He closed the door with the other one. He tossed the key on a table near, then switched on the lights. He quickly perused the room, an inspection second-nature to him now.

He put down his martini on the coffee table. He looked at his watch and frowned. Alec should have called him some time ago, but James had received no message from the receptionist desk.

A soft sound from the bedroom, like something falling on the carpet covered floor with a small thump. He quickly grabbed his gun, and silently made his way to the other room. The door was practically closed, and no light appeared under it.

He stood still, his back to the wall beside the door. He waited to hear something. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline pump in his veins; the alcohol drank earlier got cleared, and his mind was sharp and focused.

He thought he heard sound from behind the door and quickly pushed it open, colliding with a warm body that went “oof”. They struggled, and James quickly assessed that the intruder was male. The other man hissed, tensing up in what James assumed was pain.

Quickly, James hit the intruder. He switched on a lamp, all the while aiming his gun at the other man. Only then did he realise who the other man was.

“Alec?” James put his gun away, and crouched near his friend. The sense of danger had ebbed, but the adrenaline still affected him.

“Son of a bitch,” Alec said. He rubbed his face where James had hit him.

“Sorry, but you should know better than lurking around another agent.” James helped Alec get up by giving him a hand. His friend grabbed it and got up.

Alec hissed in pain, and bent on his right side. He pressed a hand on his side.

“What happened?” James asked, worried. He followed Alec, who sat on the bed and removed his coat. He saw the shirt underneath had a dark, red stain on it. “You’re hurt,” he commented, stating the obvious, but not really caring.

“Yes. I became better acquainted with a henchman and his knife.” Alec grimaced and carefully took off his shirt. “Don’t look so worried, James. A scratch. You should see the henchman.”

James studied the cut. “It doesn’t look too bad. How’s the henchman?”

“Dead.” Alec grinned, and James smiled back, his heart jumping at his friend’s grin. He felt familiar urges raise in him. Alec noticed, and leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows.

“I’ll get something to clean it.” James raised his hand, stopping his friend from saying anything. “Don’t say anything. Wait here.” He went into the common room, wondering where he might find a first aid kit in the suite. He saw his martini on the coffee table.

He smiled, and took it. He then grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.

“A martini, James ?” Alec had remained in the same position while waiting, still wearing the same grin, and showing off those long legs James loved so much.

“I’ll make it fun; I promise.”


End file.
